Rise of the Norsemen
by Norsehammer793
Summary: Follow Hroki, a man who has lost everything, even his purpose, and now has a chance to finally find meaning in his life once again as he is tasked by the gods to undergo a quest to fight off evil and save all that he knows. He will encounter endless enemies and converse with gods as he is rewarded with powers he could never have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

_Rise of the Norsemen_

 _Chapter 1 – Upon Northern Shores_

The sun stood still, suspended high in a clear blue sky. A stiff breeze raced through the fields and broke through a thick cluster of trees, revealing a Norse village. The village was small and teeming with life, and though it did not have much in terms of protection, there was a strong feeling of safety and security throughout it. The outskirts of the village housed the poorer families. Huts and small crudely built houses stood here while at the far end of the village stood the wealthier area. A group of houses composed of much more impressive and reliable materials. It was here that the Earl resided, the south side of his longhouse surrounded by the wealthier households.

From the centre of the village a noise resonated, time and time again it sounded; the clanging of steel against steel and amidst the racket stood a man; tall and stocky was he, and with shoulder length, dark red hair that was tied back into a ponytail and a long, impressive beard that was filled with an array of brown leather bands and silver beard rings. His face was etched with a most serious expression and not an ounce of joy did inhabit his face. A long scar that began above his brow travelled downwards, across his face, ending abruptly just below above his jawline. It was of a darker colour as he had received it a long time ago, it was a reminder of a battle long past in which a lucky strike from a longsword had bypassed his guard and left its lengthy mark. His name was Hroki and his place was by the forge as he was the town's blacksmith.

Hroki spent many a night at his forge, tinkering away in solitude, improving arms and armour and creating his own recipes and weaponry in a simple attempt to waste away his time, to try and give himself some sort of purpose. For the only purpose he once had, was now long lost. The village was a place of happiness and joy. The fields were farmed and the animals fed, and as each night succeeded the last, the village folk all sat together with their families. They all were truly happy...All but Hroki.

In the past Hroki had been a joyful man, surrounded by his friends and most importantly, his family. At his side stood his beautiful wife Haelga, whose lengthy golden hair was as fair as the lady Sif's and whose beauty it was told could rival that of even the goddess Freja herself. Haelga had given Hroki two sons, Buri and Dagr who had inherited their fathers red hair and masculine features, as well as their mother's piercing, icy blue eyes. The year was 793 A.D and Hroki, alongside a group of his fellow Norse warriors had travelled across the seas to Northumbria and were completing their attack on the town of Lindisfarne.

The heathens had killed and plundered their way through the town and through the monastery that was enclosed within. Their ingenuity had been rewarded as they were the very first of their kind to have navigated the seas so precisely and travelled here. And as they had hoped, the Monastery was filled with priceless objects; solid silver candelabras and solid gold crucifixes were most thrifty among the spoils. It was all they could have hoped for and more.

The men returned to the village as night approached, spoils in hand and upon entering they encountered a group of Jomsviking, brutal mercenaries who would take by force, even from their own kind. He entered the village with fear in his heart, not the fear that he may die but fear for the safety of his family. Luckily the Jomsviking forces were not too large and retreated upon witnessing the return of this large band of northmen. The Jomsviking scattered, not a retreat but a strategic replacement, but none the less they had moved away from the village. He scanned the area and called out "Haelga"..."HAELGA!"... But to no avail, the air held nothing but silence and the smell of iron, of blood.

The nearby huts were scattered and aflame. The smell of burning hit his nostrils, of both fabric and flesh. He searched the village with his eyes wide, his ears pricked and his sword raised and eager. Upon arriving at his hut his heart sank and his sword fell to the floor with an earthy clank, followed then by Hroki as his legs gave way, forcing him to his knees. He gazed within and his beloved had been revealed, as well as his two boys, lying there, on the floor, still, and lifeless. Their icy blue eyes had become dull and empty and Haelga's face was no longer one of beauty but of despair. His son's faces seemed to glisten in the moonlight, their cheeks stained by a stream of drying tears. They were dead. They were alone. Hroki did not move, nor did he speak. His breath was laboured and with a face of stone he knelt there, silently, and watched as his whole life had been washed away in an instant, no longer did he have a purpose, now he was nothing.

Time would pass, but Hroki's mind was now scarred and estranged and as the village folk would often try and engage him in conversation, every dialogue would end with the same reply...silence. The only time he did speak was in reference to his work as a smith, and even then he kept his answers down to a short and simple reply, a simple yes or no, if possible.

After a while the people of the village had realised that it was a lost cause as they had now chosen to leave Hroki to himself, to grieve and to try and once again gather his thoughts. Even Hroki's assistant Tor had been left to work in silence. A single nod was usually signalled his way, to indicate a choice between either which metal to use, or even just a simple indication of yes or no. Tor had mostly been left to learn and pick up the techniques by himself, but even so, he had eventually gathered enough information and experience to branch out and become a smith himself.

As time moved on, Tor had left the village and travelled north, to the village of Ingskar to set up shop and start his own dream of transitioning himself from pupil, to smith. And even though Hroki had seemed to barely notice the absence of his former apprentice, inside he was deeply saddened, he would miss working with young Tor and he wished he had told him this before his departure. It was likely that he would never see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2 – Gods among Us_

The year was now 795 A.D. Two years had passed since Hroki had lost his family and his purpose and had begun his new monotonous and monochromatic life of endless smithing in an attempt to forget. Hroki no longer took to the seas with his brethren during the summer raids; instead, he stayed at the village, taking care of things until they returned. He would not leave the village, not after last time. His mind was still scarred and he feared that if he left his return would herald doom once more, that history would repeat itself.

He thought he was being punished by the gods and constantly wondered, why? Why him? What had he done to deserve such a horrible fate? Daily, he searched for signs from the gods, any inkling of reason that would give his life purpose once more, but nothing...until now.

It was past midnight when it happened. The moonlight flowed through the cracks in Hroki's hut, illuminating him as he slept. He dreamt, of strange things, of gods and goddesses, and of a strange place that seemed familiar to him, though he had not been there before. It was a forest of sorts yet brighter and more magnificent than any forest he had entered previously. He wandered this place, looking for any signs of life, of the faces and visions he had seen only moments ago. He stood still. The eerie silence that filled the forest dissipated as a booming voice sounded from behind him.

"Turn and approach me mortal, for we have much to discuss".

Hroki turned and tried to pinpoint where the strange voice was coming from. He looked in the distance and noticed a tree of great size, the largest tree he had ever seen. He was dazed and confused, 'Surely not...could it really be?'... He inspected the monstrous tree thoroughly. It was Yggdrasil, the world tree, and suspended from it was a long piece of rope. At the end of the rope he found a man, hanging there. He did not seem to be alive but as Hroki approached this mysterious figure knew exactly who this man was; it was The Gallows God, The One Eyed God...Odin.

Hroki approached, and as he did so the figure had seemingly vanished with only the length of rope left to swing freely from the world tree. The voice sounded once more, from right behind him this time and as he turned towards it, he found himself face to face with a man dressed in a long black cloak and with a pointed black hat from which a long grey beard protruded. Hroki spoke out quietly as if with fear.

"I know who you are...You're The Allfather...You're Odin".

"And what brings you to that conclusion young man?" spoke Odin

"My mother used to tell me stories as a child, stories of gods and goddesses and of Asgard and the nine worlds, she told me tales of your visits to Midgard and how you dressed yourself in a long black cloak and a black hat, and the beard, the long greyed beard of the Allfather, it all makes sense".

"Well done boy, well done indeed, you have wit about you, it seems I was right to choose you after all" Odin said proudly

"So why am I here? What do you want with me? Hroki asked

"I am here to warn you" said Odin "Of an ancient evil that will plague your lands and devastate your people, unless you act now"

Hroki's face was one of surprise. He was confused and could not comprehend what was happening.

"But what is this evil? Where did it come from? And you're a god, can you not stop it?

"We Gods are not responsible for this disaster so we leave it to you men to restore the balance once more. And I have chosen you carefully. Since you were a boy I have sat and watched you from my throne Hlidskjalf. I could sense your potential, and knew that one day you would do great things" said Odin knowingly.

"So tell me, what is this danger?" Hroki asked.

"It all started with one man. A man named Malkorath. He defiled our magic, bended it to his will. He read into ancient magical texts, and became obsessed with them and with an endless pursuit of power. It was never enough. He learnt of our Runestones. Ancient stones inscribed and imbued with our magic. Used to change the way of the worlds, to bend matter itself and create untold power, or to take it away. But no mortal can truly have the knowledge to control this power. Even I, the Allfather had to make a sacrifice for this knowledge. For nine days and nine nights I hung there, from the world tree, Yggdrasil, and neither food nor drink did pass my lips. My side was pierced by a spear and I was left to die. Thrashed by the harsh winds and exposed to the elements, but for a cause. For I sacrificed myself, to myself and in doing so, the runes became clear to me, I understood them. Now I knew of magic and how to control it. Malkorath is defiling the magic of the Runestones and using them to lead the heroes from my hall in Valhalla to his side. This I cannot allow. I must have these warriors returned to Valhalla before Ragnarok descends upon us. You must go, find him and put an end to this. It will not be easy, but if you can prove to me that you are worthy to carry out this task then you shall be rewarded, with knowledge, strengths and abilities you could only dream of. Now go. Back to your lands, and warn them. Do whatever you must to convince them of this impending doom. And Hroki...Good luck, you'll need it".

Then, without warning, Odin was gone. He had seemingly disappeared, leaving nothing but a cylindrical wall of dust and debris in his wake, as if taken by the Bifrost and transported back, across the rainbow bridge to the city of Asgaard, the home of the gods. Hroki could not believe his eyes or ears, had he really just spoke to the Allfather himself? He hoped it was as it seemed as it may have been news of an incoming disaster, but this did not worry him...He had finally found a purpose once more.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 – Tension Rising_

Hroki awoke then in an outburst, His forehead misty with a cold sweat and his heart beating rapidly. He ascended to his feet with haste and attached his holster and sword. The strange dream he had endured must have lasted several hours as it was now midday, and the village was ripe with noise and life. Hroki gathered himself. He wiped the mist from his brow and headed for the Earl's longhouse. He arrived and pushed forth the two large wooden doors that guarded the entrance. He found the Earl seated within, surrounded by his guards and councilmen.

The Earl was older and only average in height and weight but he had a keen mind for battle and strategy, and knew how to make use of it in a fight. From his head sprouted a wave of thick oak coloured hair that was tied back and from his chin grew a small, intelligent looking beard, brown in colour but infested with silvery grey hairs and nestled within, stood one large golden ring inscribed with runes that held a message; The gods favour the brave. Hroki approached and spoke loudly.

"Earl Einar, it is most urgent that I speak with you".

"Hroki? What are you doing here? It must have been over two years since you last stepped foot in my longhouse. Now please. Tell me why I should even bother to lend you my ear when you have not bothered to attend and pay me your respects in so long a time?"

"I am sorry my Earl, it is true of my absence, since my family was taken from me I have kept to myself, secluded and alone. But now, the time has come for me to speak out. For the matters at hand are urgent and must be attended to".

The Early spoke in a condescending tone. "Then step forth Hroki and speak up and I will decide if these matters are indeed as 'urgent' as you say".

"Last night, I dreamt, of the strangest happenings. I dreamt of the Allfather. He told me things, disturbing things" said Hroki insistently.

The Earl answered him once again, his voice still ripe with condescension. "The Allfather you say? And what did he want with a man as... important as yourself?"

The Earls men sniggered and jeered in derision.

"Joke all you want Einar, but this is a serious matter. I was told of an impending doom. Of a force that would consume everything we know and hold dear, unless we act now, so I'm afraid the time for joking is over, it is now the time for action."

The Earl grunted in disapproval. "Have care in how you speak to me boy. I am your Earl. Let us make that clear. And with this 'matter' at hand. We shall speak of it no more. I think your time in seclusion has left your mind warped to say the least. I mean to come up with such stories. You are obviously deluded. Now if you don't mind, we have actual business to attend to so let us leave these ridiculous stories for the children and let us hear no more of it".

Hroki was enraged by the ignorance of the Earl. He was angered, but not stupid. He knew the consequences of causing trouble for the Earl. He would need more people to back him up and help him be heard. He headed back to the centre of the village and tried to reason with the village folk. He tried to get across his message but none would hear. The people did nothing but look upon him in confusion. As if he was a madman.

Hroki heard a voice speak out from the shadows. "You've been warned Hroki. About this nonsense, yet you continue to force it upon people and pass it off as the truth. It has to stop. NOW!" It was one of the Earls men. He must have been ordered to follow him and make sure he did as the Earl had commanded instead of scaremongering and possibly causing havoc within the village. The potential up rise would bare nothing but trouble for Earl Einar, and he knew it. His name was Roric. He was the Earls right hand man and was as loyal as they come. He was a stocky man, not unlike Hroki but topped with a bald head and a short, orange beard.

Hroki turned and faced him. "Step back, Roric. There is no need of you here". He said in a most serious tone. Roric approached him and placed his hand on Hroki's shoulder. "Come now, there is no need for this. We all know that you were a respectable man and a great warrior and that is why if you stop this nonsense then the Earl will take the matter no further, I mean what would your family think of you? Spouting out such ridiculous theories, and with no proof? Now this is your last warning, do as I say and return to your work and there will be no more to say of it".

"Now understand this Roric. He said as he brushed his hand off of his shoulder with force. This is YOUR final warning. Do not speak of my family again. Or I promise you, you will regret it".

"Is that a threat" Roric said, moving closer to Hroki, bringing them face to face.

"No" replied Hroki..."It's a Promise".

And before Roric had even noticed, Hroki had connected a vicious right cross, knocking him to the floor with an earthy thud, he was left dazed and with a deep cut that ran across his cheekbone. Roric stood fast and charged at Hroki trying to take the fight to the floor. He failed as Hroki leaned forward and repositioned himself, allowing his large torso to absorb the brunt of the collision. From the clinch the two men swung and struck, connecting blows to the body and to the head. After laughing off a barrage of hits from Roric, Hroki landed a devastating elbow to his spine leaving him winded and gasping for breath. Hroki followed the attack with a crushing knee to the abdomen, by now the gash below Roric's eye had begun to weep a crimson stream and he was set aback, his ribs bruised and cracked. After the two men had separated, all it took was one last mighty uppercut to send Roric earthbound, to lie sprawled amidst the dusty earth. Hroki had to stop and catch his breath now, for he may have been as good a fighter as he had ever been but the same could not be said for his stamina.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 – Broken Bonds_

Hroki headed back to his home, to try and come up with some sort of plan of how to rally men to his side, to make them understand that they were in grave danger if they would not stand with him and fight. Hardly any time had passed at all and Hroki's revelry was cut short when out of the blue, a large group of the Earl's men came rushing into his home, the Earl positioned safely with them at his side.

The Earl spoke, his voice trembling with anger. "You really thought you could get away with this? You disobeyed my direct instructions, and worst of all, you assault my personal guard when he did nothing but advise you of your best interests. This will not go unpunished. MEN, TAKE HIM AWAY!" We shall see how much fight is left in you after a month in the dungeons".

That was the last thing that Hroki could remember upon awakening in the dungeons. He sat up, shook his head and observed his surroundings. His head throbbed and a sharp pain shot through along his skull. One of the Earl's men must have hit him from behind. The room was cold, and dark and the floor grimy and wet to the touch. Between him and his escape stood a thick, splintered wooden door. It was the only way out it seemed as the east of the cell was crafted of cold, cobbled stone. So this was it, the way it would all end. Stuck inside this grimy dungeon, to await the end of all he knew. By the time he had served his sentence, it would be far too late. By then, Malkorath's plans would surely have come to fruition.

Hroki sat and waited. He closed his eyes and prayed to Odin for help and guidance as it seemed only a miracle could save him now. He had only been imprisoned for just over a day but to Hroki it may as well have been a year. He thought it likely that this cell would be his tomb and he had almost given up hope. He sat quietly in the corner, leaned against the joining of two of the stone walls as the cold, grimy aura of the cell began to seep, slowly, from mind, to body, to soul. And then it happened. The miracle he had prayed for...

Hroki heard a large thud, followed by an even larger creak as the outer door of the dungeon was forced open. Hroki rushed to the door of his cell, spying through the small cracks and gaps in the splintered wood. It was a group of the Earl's men, no more than ten at most, plus a few of the village folk who stood quietly to the rear of the room. One of the men stepped forward and banged his fist against the cell door and then shouted..."Hroki...The Earl has decided to give you one last chance; you will appear before him to attend a secondary hearing that will determine your fate. You have the village folk to thank as it was they who petitioned for your immediate release and re-trial".

Hroki was taken, escorted by the men to the Earls longhouse. It was here that his sentence would be decided, and then carried out. The Earl noticed Hroki's arrival and bellowed from across the room..."Ahh Hroki, there you are, it's so nice of you to join us". The Earl let out a condescending snigger and not so surprisingly his men laughed along with him, a ripple of forced laughter and applaud circled the room. 'What a bunch of gutless boot lickers the Earl keeps at his side' Thought Hroki.

"So then, what shall we do with you now eh?" said the Earl while rubbing his beard. "I agreed that I would grant you a re-trial but I can tell you now that I will not be in any way lenient of your actions, and if I hear one more word of these ridiculous stories of yours then you will already have chosen your fate" added the Earl.

"But the people must know... there is no time" barked Hroki. His calm demeanour had finally worn thin. I know now what needs to be done!"

"So enlighten me, what is it you propose?" The Earl's voice had shifted. It was no longer riddled with condescension; it now carried a tone of utter seriousness. He glared, angrily at Hroki, awaiting his answer.

"A challenge" replied Hroki. "For the right as Earl..."

A wave of gasps circled the room. Followed by whispers, and then silence as all who watched held their breath.

"You DARE challenge me! You are nothing but a lowly smith...and that is all, if the gods were to choose a champion it would be me, NOT YOU!" spat the Earl, his face now trembling and red with anger and his fists clenched.

"What's the matter Einar, afraid you'll lose?" Hroki replied, as his face slowly shifted into a grin.

"We shall see who is afraid" added the Earl as he stood slowly and headed for the door.

They met outside then, encircled by the Earl's men as well as the village folk. A feeling of tension and unease lingered in the air like a foul smell.

The Earl's advisor addressed the people and spoke. "Today we are gathered, as we stand before the gods, to decide who will take the place as Earl of this village. The victor will have proven that the gods are indeed by his side, and if the fallen fights well, and does so courageously, he will be taken to Valhalla, guided by the Valkyries, to feast and fight in Odin's hall".

The Earl's men then entering into the ring of folk that encircled them, and offered them their choice of weapons. The Earl favoured his trusty short sword and also his round shield which was of wood but was bound in thick leather, the idea of which was to numb the force of the blade and protect the weaker wood that lay beneath. Hroki looked upon the choice of weapons and cast them aside. He removed his two handed sword from its sheath and armed himself with it, staring the Earl in the eyes as he did so. The two men had seemingly made their choice, and the battle was ready to commence...


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5 – Swords Shall Clash_

Einar struck the first blow, a fast and precise jab that was aimed at his enemy's midsection, Hroki shifted his large sword and managed to counter the attack, but only just, for the Earl, despite his age, was more agile and aware than he had imagined. The sword glanced off, away from its target and put the Earl off balance, Hroki knew that this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He closed in on the staggered Earl, lifted his sword high above his head, gripping it tightly with both hands, and brought it down with all of his might on top of the Earl who by then already had his shield raised in anticipation of the attack. The great sword struck the shield with an immense force, its blade edge piercing the leather reinforcement but not cutting through enough to expose the bare wood underneath.

The shock of the attack on the other hand was devastating, and the Earl's forearm suffered the brunt of the damage. It was left heavily bruised and even partly fractured and now it pained the Earl to even grip his shield tightly. He knew that every hit would now feel twice as painful as before. The Earl carried on none the less, trying to conceal the fact that he was hurt, he knew that he could not take another direct hit like before, the pain would be too much. Hroki knew that his attack must have caused damage of some magnitude, as the Earl had stepped back away from him, his subconscious telling him to flee. Without pause Hroki set after him once more, but the Earl was ready now and took a defensive positioning.

Einar stood and waited for Hroki to charge so that he could make his move. Einar got exactly what he wanted as Hroki charged forward, predictably. The Earl strafed left and ducked simultaneously, dodging the great sword as it was swung in a huge arc. The momentum of the attack pulled Hroki forward, leaving his side vulnerable and exposed. This is exactly what the Earl had planned and whilst he had the opportunity he slashed away quickly at Hroki's side and left a series of small, bloody gashes that peeked through the ripped and torn fabric of Hroki's white tunic. Hroki winced in pain and quickly protected his side by covering it with his left hand. He raised his arm and looked on at it.

The sleeve of Hroki's tunic was stained and wet with blood. It ran along his arm and across his wrist and as it reached his hand, the blood began to bead across his fingertips and fall slowly onto the dry dusty soil below. Einar looked upon Hroki and let out a smile. He may not have won, as of yet, but it was a small victory still as he had drawn first blood. Hroki steeled himself and ignored the pain. He had suffered much more gruesome wounds in battles past and he reminded himself of this. He gripped his sword once more with both hands, the blood now rolling past the hilt of his sword and forming as a crimson droplet on the underside of the pommel.

Hroki and the Earl stood motionless for a while, devising their next series of attacks. They set of then, in pursuit of each other, arriving together at the centre of the crowd. The Earl once again struck first, his sword held high and aimed at his rivals head, but to the earl's disappointment, Hroki had remained unscathed, a quick back step and an arch of his back had saved him this time, his reflexes started to sharpen and quicken. The earl however did not stop; he was starting to lose his temper. Just as Hroki had leant back and regained his footing, he was met by the earl's shield, a huge bash that knocked Hroki back.

Hroki had to work hard in steadying himself so he did not fall to the ground, as this would surely mean his demise. He put his hand to his face and inhaled sharply, through his teeth and let out an angered grunt. Upon removing his hand, the earl could then see the extent of the damage he had caused. Hroki's nose was broken, badly and had split. A rash of blood infected his face and met with another source that had spilled from his bruised and discoloured feature. Hroki wiped the blood from his face and smeared it on his tunic, from the shoulder to the middle of his chest, a line of crimson lay stretched across the white, woollen material.

"Is that all you've got Hroki? Tell me, how does it feel? To know that soon you will join that useless wife and children of yours" said the earl as he tried to win in a battle of wits, not brawn. He tried to get into Hroki's head, to make him careless. Hroki did not reply, he just stood for a moment and closed his eyes. He thought of his wife and his boys, he knew that they would want him to succeed. He gathered the rest of his strength and headed towards the earl to make one last brutal assault. He paced towards the earl slowly, with his sword held loosely in one hand and lowered to the ground, the tip carving a groove in the soft dirt and with a blank look about his eyes.

"So what then? "Have you given up? Well I don't blame you" mocked the earl; you're obviously no match for me".

Hroki had now reached the earl and was within reaching distance. He attacked, with a barrage of rage filled slashes which took the earl by surprise. He had no idea how Hroki could find the energy to continue with his assault, but he did. Sword clashed with shield, again and again, pushing the earl to the edge of the ring, and Hroki somehow, did not seem to tire. The earl by now had been hit over a dozen times, with on overhead slash that seemed to hit his shield in precisely the same area each time. The earl could not take much more now; the pain was unbearable as he could feel the shock of every hit surge through his flesh and into his bones. The earl had now been forced to the floor, still with his shield held high, in a hope that Hroki would soon tire.

Hroki knew now that this was the time and forced all of his remaining energy and stamina into one last powerful blow. He lifted his great sword high into the air and brought it down once more with all of his fury. The earl's shield finally gave in under the pressure of the mighty blow and the leather cover had finally been torn and the bare wood underneath had all but snapped in two. The shock of the attack was of a much more brutal nature though as it had followed through the shield and into the earl's forearm, cracking and shattered the bones within and sending the earl to the floor, alongside his shield, which now lay to his left, destroyed and useless. The earl now revealed his true colours and begged Hroki for mercy, but this, Hroki would not grant him...He roared in anger and finished it then; burying his blade deep within the earl's skull, a warm splash of blood spattering against his face.

The crowd of villagers, alongside the earl's men gasped and stood frozen in shock, their hands covering their children's eyes and some even, with their heads turned away in horror, but even so, he did not stop. Hroki repeated the attack, again and again, until the earl's skull had been shattered and split into several pieces, all steeped in their own juices, a vile cocktail of blood and fluid, of brains and flesh. When Hroki was finished, the earl was barely recognisable and only now did he stop and stand back, with laboured breath and showered in blood, both the earl's and his own.

Hroki lifted his sword with both hands and gripped it firmly; the pommel pointed to the sky, as he drove the blade down, deep into the earl's chest, to stay there, its weight anchoring the earl's body to the floor. He slowly released the hilt and left the sword to stand by itself, dug through flesh and bone and into the bloody soil beneath. He was finished now and with his heart racing and his eyes wide he departed, returning back to his home to gather his things and precede to the longhouse...His longhouse, for many a change was to be made and he would be the one to make them, for he was now the earl, he finally had the power he needed to start his quest for the gods and to save all that was and was to be.


End file.
